Challenge: Harry Potter Summons a Servant
by Divine-Faithborn
Summary: A challenge fiction with an accompanying introduction. Harry Potter has inadvertently created a Holy Grail War at the young age of seven! How does this affect the world around him?


Author's Note: This is a challenge fiction for something that has been bugging my creative spark for a while. I know that I'm working on something that may or may not see the light of day, and I figured that I would throw this challenge out to anyone who wants something to chew on. I truly hope that someone takes this challenge, as I feel that it's an idea that hasn't really been touched much as a premise.

The challenge is at the bottom of the page, after a short two scene introduction. If you want to use the introduction, I'll be more than happy to send you a document file that you can use to copy/paste.

* * *

Harry Potter Summons a Servant

* * *

"Silver and iron to the origin. Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone. Though I have nothing to offer I still beseech thee."

The circle was in place, carefully drawn upon a stolen sheet of printer paper in an unprofessional red marker. The command sigils were inscribed onto his hand; black pen having been used to draw three neat little circles on the back of his left palm. His mind was made up and he was speaking the memorized text, although it was a foolish ritual and anyone with a shred of common sense knew that nothing would happen. Still he chanted on.

"The aligned wind becomes a wall. The gates in the four directions close, coming from the crown, the three-forked road that leads to the kingdom circulate."

It would likely get him into trouble with the Dursleys, but for one seven year old Harry Potter, anything was the price he was willing to pay for his wish to be granted. The young boy had seen the ritual used in a book at his school's library and he had inexplicably known that he could complete it. Just like the heroes of that book, Harry knew that he could summon a legend from the throne of heroes to grant his wish. It was his sincere childish hope that legend would not only grant his wish, but save him from his relatives as well.

Even though the librarian had told him the book was merely fiction, Harry knew that it would work. For weeks he had entertained the fantasy of being someone who called down a legend. He entertained the notion of fighting in a Grail war against the other masters. The violent combat that only heroic spirits were capable of inspired him, as did the motivation for fighting in the war itself. He truly and desperately wanted for a chance to have his wish come true.

"Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Repeat every five times. Simply, shatter once filled."

As he continued to chant, magic filled the air. Harry had known that this would happen; after all, he had done his research as best as any seven year old boy could do. He had stolen paper from the school and drawn countless designs while he was locked away underneath the cupboard that was his room at the Dursleys. He had memorized the lines and constantly chanted them in order, changing the verses in order to best suite his own need. When Vernon, that awful oaf of a man, had forbidden him from speaking Harry had continued to memorize the lines of the summoning ritual in his head, for nothing could sway from his dream.

And finally, when he was ready and his summoning circle was finally completed to the best of his ability, he had drawn the command sigils upon his hand. Tonight was the night that his life would change.

"I announce. Yourself is under me, my fate (doom) is in your sword."

He prayed to God for a miracle.

"In accordance with the resort to the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer."

According to the book, magecraft was all about convincing yourself that the magic could work. You had to impose your will onto reality and force it into existence. You had to truly believe that you could do the things you wished for your magic to do.

And Harry knew, somehow, that he could successfully complete the summoning ritual. After all, if he couldn't complete the ritual then why had the paper summoning circle begun to glow with power? His relatives had called him a freak when they saw the glowing symbols and tried to crush any notion that he had magical powers. But all they did was reinforce his belief that he had magical powers and they were the cause of the glow. No wonder they had been so ruthless in trying to crush his spirit.

"Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead; I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead."

In another universe, the words and magic would indeed summon a hero for a Grail War. But this was not that universe. In this universe there was no Holy Grail to summon the heroes of legend. There was no group of magi to fight to the death for a wish. There was no chance for Harry Potter's wish to be fulfilled through magic.

But let it be said that the accidental magic of an innocent child wizard was truly a wonderful and miraculous thing. In the universe of this Harry Potter, the wishes of a child wizard could do anything so long as the conviction was there. Before the magic of childhood wonder was shackled and caged beneath adult reason it could truly do anything, provided the child believed in it. That was true magic, whimsical and wonderful, elusive and pure.

"You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, oh keeper of the balance!"

With that, Harry's chant was finished and the summoning ritual should have been completed. A hero should have arrived but instead only a shockwave of power rippled through the air. But despite that shockwave nothing else happened, save for the lingering smell of magic that decided to hang in the air. Seconds passed as Harry's resolve began to crumble away.

For most children, the results of accidental magic were surprisingly mundane. Some wished to have a special hair color while others desired to bounce a dozen feet into the air. Not so for the young Harry Potter, whose wish was strong enough that he wanted to touch the heavens. He knew that he had successfully completed the ritual. He was sure of it.

But why hadn't his servant come?

"Boy!? What are you doing in there!?"

No! The voice of Vernon Dursley booked as the giant of a man descended down the stairs above Harry's head. So strong were the stomps that dust from the short ceiling shook free and sprinkled the body of the now terrified seven year old. If that man, the man who hated Harry and his magic, learned of what Harry was doing then Harry knew that he would suffer eternally. Already Vernon had attempted to beat the idea of the ritual out of Harry, what would happen this time?

"Please heroic spirit..." prayed Harry as he closed his eyes and concentrated. The padlock outside of his door was jiggling fiercely as his uncle attempted to unlock it - the irony that the one thing meant to keep him isolated was now protecting him was lost as Harry shook in fear. "Please, God, please grant my wish!"

* * *

A pulse could be felt across the vast realm of humanity. It echoed through the dimensions endlessly until it found its destination at the seat of the throne of a legend. It had traveled across eternity in an instant as it sought out the legend that was best suited for the origin. The pulse had relentlessly searched all of the realms and all of the dimensions until at last it had found the right person, until at last it rested at the seat of the throne of a legend.

Said legend, clad in the tales of its fame, sat unimpressed upon its throne. It was a legend that was known to many, but it was a legend that sat skeptical and wary of the summoning at its feet. The plea upon its ears was equally unimpressive.

"A boy, of all people, would summon me?" the legend scoffed, fully aware that there would be no reward for its service. Despite the ritual used, there was no Grail War that would give it its own wish so no, it would not answer. The legend would not answer the pathetic prayer that was Harry Potter's magic. Instead the legend shifted in its seat and turned its head away from the pulse of magic.

But the prayer persisted.

"Shoo! Find someone else for I have no reason to help you!" dismissed the legend with a wave of its hand, brushing away at the ephemeral hopes and prayers of a young boy.

"Then perhaps I should give you one?"

The Heroic Spirit, startled, turned its attention back to the wish. In the magic's place was a goddess, the will of humanity. Where a pathetic prayer once existed stood Alaya. The only words that could describe her would be pure beauty beyond description. Her will was the very will of humanity, and the Heroic Spirit's own existence upon its thrown was because of the goddess in front of it.

Alaya was the being that had enshrined all Heroic Spirits in eternal glory, storing them in a glorified treasure vault. For the most part, she ignored the legends; content to simply let them exist outside of time for ever and always. She didn't visit without reason, and that reason was rarely good.

For her will was the survival of humanity and her appearing before the Heroic Spirit meant nothing good.

"What business have you, Alaya, at my throne?" questioned the Heroic Spirit as it entertained a look of puzzlement that belayed pure unadulterated terror. If Alaya wished for the prayer of the boy to be fulfilled then the prayer of the boy would be fulfilled. Just being here was a formality gifted to it by the will of humanity. She could just as easily ensnare the Heroic Spirit's will and enforce her desires by depriving its free will.

"I shall be brief," answered Alaya, "this boy holds the key to humanity in his dimension, but he will die soon without your intervention. Should you protect him and fulfill his wish, I shall grant you a wish of your own. If you do not aid him, I will instead strike your name from the throne of legends and cast you unto oblivion before finding a different Heroic Spirit."

Damn, that was quite a statement. On one hand, the Heroic Spirit could descend upon the human world much like a counter guardian to protect the boy. There was a shot at having its own wish fulfilled if it was successful too. And on the other hand, true eternal death waited if it turned its back to the boy in need.

The Heroic Spirit paused, contemplating Alaya's words. It turned its gaze away from the goddess only once, to muse over the pulse of energy that was Harry's wish. "How do I know that this boy's wish will be grantable?"

Alaya simply smiled, an act that unnerved the Heroic Spirit. "Although this world does not have a Holy Grail War, I shall give you a Holy Grail War. And I know that you will win it, because this boy will one day become one of my greatest tools."

Once again, the Heroic Spirit shuddered. Not only did Alaya know that the Heroic Spirit would accept her offer, but she also knew that the person making the call would one day become a counter guardian. The goddess knew everything, and was simply acting to ensure that the future would come to pass.

"You leave me no choice, Alaya, your will is absolute and your given options are a trap. Still, I will comply with this boy's wish; if only to grant my own wish."

In all seriousness, there was no choice - just the illusion of it. The will of humanity was forcing this Heroic Spirit to descend to the world. Hopefully it wouldn't be all that bad. After all, it too had a wish of its own.

* * *

"Please God, hear my prayer!"

A pulse of energy flashed through existence, shaking the young Harry Potter just as the padlock that his uncle was working upon snapped open. In Vernon's rage, the man had foregone the traditional use of a key and instead forcibly pried the lock from its hinges.

And then the door was next.

With all the strength of a giant, Vernon ripped the flimsy cupboard door out of its frame and stared down upon Harry Potter's terrified figure. Sheer abject horror radiated across Harry's body as he moved away from the new opening in his room - trembling as he moved into the corner and tried to make himself as small as possible. But, try as he might, Harry could not escape from Vernon nor could he turn his eyes away from the rage filled man.

There was a feral grin upon his face and a look that promised a world of untold pain onto the boy. "God won't save you boy!" he snarled as he took a step back and casually dropped the door to the floor. He would need both hands to deliver his punishment on the young Harry.

But before he could step forward for the promised punishment, a blinding light seemingly came from nowhere. It was everywhere all at once, painting Harry's vision in a dazzling white that overpowered everything. He could hear Vernon shout in rage and surprise, and then he could only assume that the man had been pushed onto the ground judging by the way he cried out in pain.

And then Harry's vision returned and he saw him.

"I offer you one chance, leave now or I will paint the walls with your blood."

* * *

Challenge: Harry Potter summons a servant for a Grail War! How does this play out?

You can make this as long or as short as you want. PM me if you want to use the above story as a jumping off point and I'll send you a file that can be used to copy/paste it. You're also more than welcome to bounce ideas off me, and I'll happily chat with you about them.

Here are the rules:

Rule 1: You can choose any heroic Spirit from the Fate universe that you want. While there is a plethora of premade servants (seriously, google "servant fate stay") you can even create your own. Will Harry summon Arturia Pendragon (saber), Jack the Ripper (assassin), or maybe even Achilles (rider)?

Rule 1.5: While Heroic Spirits are just about the strongest beings in existence, don't make their personalities into Mary Sues. They have their own desires and faults and aren't perfect.

Rule 2: You can either write the Grail War itself or skip to Harry's first year at Hogwarts. With good explanation, you can even skip past that to a greater time in the future. If you do skip the war, then A) Harry keeps his servant and B) Harry has won the war and C) Throw some details about the war into your writing.

Rule 3: Harry is seven years old (eleven if you skip the war), please make him believable. He can be smarter or more mature than the original source material, but try to be believable. He had to get that wisdom and maturity from somewhere. Also, Harry is not infallible, he can make mistakes.

Rule 4: If you're thinking about romance, wait until Harry hits puberty.


End file.
